get hip to minneapolis? done, and done.

Thanks to Fimoculous, we have a link to a wonderful flash tour of all the hip things to do in Minneapolis.

Oooh, and if you know Joel and Dave, see if you can play Where's Waldo and find them on the Hold Steady photo.

is this thing on?

So, I've (finally) started a project with actual work and deadlines involved.
(you may recall from earlier episodes that I'm a bit of a spaz about my career. I am a gigantic dork and really love the work I do.)

In the midst of a slow period at work, I seem to have lost my "on deadline" playlist.
Any thoughts on good songs you would enjoy while working on a deadline (play along; pretend you like working on deadline.)

The floor is open...

art, and a rule to live by

Some Northside wisdom, from Paul Schmelzer on Eyeteeth:

more Kerouac in my life would be good.

This is a great article about being in a relationship with your city.
It probably sounds weird. It's OK. My fellow urban-dwellers get it.

I feel much the same way about Minneapolis now as Kamiya describes in his memories of younger days in San Fransisco here. It leads me to wonder what Minneapolis and I will be like in 20 years. But for now, some prime quotes:

Eventually I realized my dream and moved there, but I still felt like I was wandering around in a place more grownup than me, and more fabled than I deserved.

Cities are archaeological digs, and the layers are made up not just of decaying objects but of memory.

But youth is nothing if not resilient. Like the irrepressible Toad, my role model at that point in life, I popped up from that humiliation to once again try my luck.

We chose this corner because it was surreal and deep and utterly urban and a secluded place to hoist a drink in Jack's memory.

But it [North Beach] follows you around. You don't lose it. It gets old with you. And the lines you see in its face, the cracks in its mythical facade, are just as beautiful as its dawn.

...where you've been a thousand times before and where you will always return, where you left your heart, and where you found it.

pitchfork. craig finn. pitchfork. craig finn. pitchfork. craig finn. (wait. is there a pattern here?)

Thanks, 89.3 the Current. I'm almost outta here for the day, but this was a good afternoon giggle.

eye candy

this absolutely reminds me of the funny little glass/spoon stop motion clips that came on Sesame Street every once in a while, when I was a child. This made me smile with a little fond memory and a little awe of how long it must have taken to create this. YouTube = Monday eye candy.

yum. (it tastes like a monday!)

Deliciousness for this fine December Monday:

• Waking up to powdered-sugar snow in the city. I love how it looks when we get that dusting of cold snow, because it looks as if like a giant baker spilled powdered sugar from the sky onto the entire city. The first "real" snow of the winter is always magic. OK, it wasn't even like a "real" snow -- but it's December, people! It's cold, you may as well bring on the snowcover so I can at least go play outside.
• A new little band nugget to check out. Proof-positive that I'm totally a sucker for UK bands.
• Leftovers from The Black Forest. Heck yah.
• 100 feeds on bloglines. It's official: I'm an addict.
• Split pea soup, potato bread and german chocolate cake. That's what's cooking in the Green House tonight.
  
• Just now realizing how appropriately named the Green House is.
• Plans for the recent future to include a night of premium/trivia, a show, an evening of british hilarity, and a night of good, wholesome violence. My. Word. I love this city.
• Two new friends in the netflix account. It's sorta voyeuristic, but also practical. Honestly: it's uncanny how I end up with the same movies in my queue as everyone else.

Today's only-in-my-brain soundtrack:

1. Massive Nights - The Hold Steady
2. Proud Mary - Tina Turner
3. The Christians and the Pagans - Dar Williams
4. A Million Ways - OK Go
   

massive nights

We were just another pack of 20something urban punks, hoping-we-didn't-look-too-much-like-hipsters, scurrying to the relative warmth of the car after a stellar performance at First Ave. I remember thinking briefly, between icicle-sharp inhalations, how Saturday nights are more pleasant when you can straggle back to the parking ramp, enjoying the people watching along Block E, picking up tidbits of conversations as you walk by tightly-entwined couples, sprawling, caterwauling whinos, pods of suburban posers and throngs of hipsters in white belts.
But we all just look the same in December: huddled masses under knitted caps and lined mittens, swathed in scarves and ensconsed in outerwear, scurrying like silverfish when you turn on the light in the basement laundryroom.
And so we scurry like the rest of the hardcore Saturday night Minnesotans, like insects into the parking ramp. 6th floor. Always the argument about which floor we are on. Remember, we had to park on 6th -- that damned Guns and Roses concert.
Yah. Suburban idiots.
We huddle around the car and I point the key fob to open the doors.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
OK, my key fob must be dead. I'm a mechanically adept woman; I can open a door manually with a key.
Except that the lock is frozen.
and I can't even get the trunk open.
And why won't the lights come on in the car?
There's suddenly a mouth-to-mouth moment on the driver's door, and I for a moment think I will have to call 911 as Joel's lips instantaneously freeze to the my driver's side door. But it's all good, and we don't have any frozen emergencies.
Not until I put my keys in the ignition and hear:



Shit.
I glance slowly, downward and left.
Of course. My lights were on.
Until they drained my battery.
And now, 5 of us stood, cold, exhausted, needing to pee, needing to sleep... and no ride.

Suddenly, and almost as if I have stopped to think but the rest of the world continues on, everyone disperses, asking random strangers speeding out of the 7th street garage for jumper cables.
No dice. No, sorry... suburban idiots and white-belt indie kids don't carry those practical things.

And then it's settled: it's cold, we want to go home. Or at least to last call. So we scurry like silverfish again, into and out of the elevator, spilling into the intersection of 1st Avenue and 8th Street, hailing a cabbie who seems way too happy to see us. Four of us squeeze into the backseat of the otherwise nondescript cab, with Dave calling shotgun.
I notice then: our cabbie is laughing uncontrollably. And it seems to be catching.

Cabbie: Are you guys drunk?
Us: Yah/Not really/Working on it (it was a mixed crowd)
Laughing
Cabbie: (driving past the Saloon) Those guys are soo gay.
Us: Yah...
More laughing, mostly by the cabbie.
Cabbie: (noticing a Passat driving the wrong way down Hennepin): You are going the wrong way! Turn! Turn!
Uncontrollable laughing
Cabbie: (to Dave) Do you want to see my titties?
(note: cabbie is a middle-aged African Immigrant).
Dave: (stares out window ferverently)
Joel: Dave, I bet you are so glad you called shotgun, huh?
Dave: (makes an angry Dave face)
Severe fits of laughing, wheezing, chortling and a snort
Cabbie: where am I dropping you off?
Us: (uncomprehendable shouts of several different addresses, landmarks and cross-streets!)
Fits of laughter
Cabbie: (dropping us off) Have a good night!
Us: Give this cabbie a massive tip. That was the best cab ride of my life.
Laughter
Dave: (collecting ones like a cheap stripper sporting a banana hammock, tips the cabbie) You guys realize we just gave that cabbie over 100% in tip?
Sarah: That was epic, and completely worth it.

and in other news...

I'm totally jealous that chicago got a snowstorm before we did. Barbara and Nathan are so lucky. For heaven's sake, if it's going to be 4 degrees at night -- If I have to shower before bed just to get/stay warm... could we at least not have a foot of pretty white stuff on the ground?

At least I could put on a ski jacket, swaddle myself in a fluffy scarf and stocking cap, strap on some snowshoes and enjoy winter.

----------------------

Riddle me this: What do these cars have in common:

• Honda Pilot
• Dodge Grand Caravan
• Chevrolet Trailblazer
• Jeep Liberty
• Land Rover

If your answer was, "cars that took 2 parking spots each in the 'compact only' row at work today so those of us who drive normal-ish size cars had to walk from another ZIP code", you win.
For real -- if you want to drive an SUV, go for it. Hope you enjoy your gas-guzzling, suburban soul-sucking metal death trap. However... do not be a jerk and take the spots MARKED for compact cars. Your Land Rover is not compact. By anyone's standards. Anyone. And closed loop to the soccer mom driving the minivan: yah, you sold out too. Nice try, scooter... but your 8-seater minivan is compact like my 5-shot grande latte is decaf.

--------------------

The tree is up at the clan Green fortress. Christy and I had a blast last night (as usual, when don't we have a great time?)
After some bonding time with a loaded baked potato pizza from Luce, we tapped into our inner lumberjacks and (after much elbow grease and a short adventure to my parents place in Lakeville) trimmed the bottom. Hilarity ensued as we tried to get the tree back in the stand (consider two women, tired after a long week, full and giggly and dozy, trying to erect a pine tree in my dining room while debating the militant vegetarian/vegan...). We trimmed her out this year in a batch of great, 1950s retro-kitch decorations. You can't see 'em in the photo, but they are so indie, retro... so me. I love my little tree.

--------------------
soundtrack in my head right now:
Bus to Beelzebub - Soul Coughing
Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night - The Hold Steady
Santa Baby - Eartha Kitt
Limp - Fiona Apple

neato

victim of your parent's basement?

annoyed.
Allow me to explain:

We all learn how to handle money in our 20s, right? We all pay the price of that initial credit card you really didn't understand, but thoroughly enjoyed using, in college?
Yes. We all (to one degree or another) get ourselves into the proverbial financial rock and hard place in our early 20s. I guess I consider it one of the rites of passage. And we all wiggled our way out, in some form. It is a good learning, a good growing experience for us. It builds character and teaches us how to be "grown ups" with our paychecks.
However... I have to agree with most of what this article says.

a) for real? racking up 100K in undergraduate debt is insanity. Kids (and parents, if they are ponying up for a portion) have the personal responsibility to select whatever school they can afford. This is yet another example of, I'll just delay paying for something I really cannot afford... which is perhaps a worse American epidemic than obesity.
b) student loans aside... take some individual accountability. Credit cards aren't evil; they just are. Know what you are signing your name to. Educate yourself. If you rack up 3K on a stereo, new skiis and spring break... well, you signed each and every credit slip. This employs rules #2 and #3 ... the best way out is through, and take personal responsibility for your life. If you have made a mistake (my God, we're all human, we all do it)... own up to it. Get a second job; cut your living expenses; whatever.
c) I love the line quoted in this article about living in your parent's house not being "sexy". Well, Scooter... perhaps you should worry about your credit score more than you worry about getting laid. I don't know; just me, but when you do finally get a girlfriend, and you want to get married and buy a house, I'm guessing she isn't going to find a man who cannot balance his checkbook and refuses to stop living beyond his means real sexy, either. Unless, of course, you both racked up hundreds of thousands of debt going to schools you couldn't afford to drink beer and sleep through your first class (come on, we all did it.) In which case, enjoy the American dream of constantly paying bills which will never disappear.
d) At some point, as a parent, I believe the grown ups have the responsibility to teach our kids about finances. Show them how to balance their bank account. Teach them (demonstrate to them) how to practice moderation. Give 'em a practice credit card. Whatever it takes. Do this before they go to college; because as we know, college is that magical place with all the privileges and none of the responsibilities of adulthood. When it makes sense, I'm going to candidly talk with Paige about this stuff. Explain the financial mistakes I have made (we've all made a few). Show her how I learned to do it right. And if she moves back into the basement at 23, well... I guess it's time for the refresher course.

News from the green portion of my brain

Reasons I want a subscription to NEED magazine:
a) most of you know I'm a magazine addict. Mostly because it gives me something to do in the bathtub, on the treadmill, or at the cabin.
b) this makes the green party in me real proud to be a native Minneapolitan.

aside: I want Santa to leave this under my tree.

The Sarah Green Rules for Living

(disclaimer: I'm blog-happy today. This is what happens when I'm in a writing mood and waiting for work to come back to me so I can actually accomplish something.)

OK. The Sarah Green Rules for Living have been brewing for a good, long time now... thanks to many a thinker, a decent amount of life experience, and a little help from the people in my life I hold dear, I think I've got a good set (OK, at least a starting point) of basic concepts I apply to make life (more) bearable.

Rule #1: Chase your happy.
Alright. I haven't been around for 100 years or anything, but in the meager years I have been around, I have learned perhaps the one thing we all want to do, and usually do not, is chase our happy. We take jobs we don't want because it would be too hard to do what we want to do. We stay in crappy relationships because it's easier than being alone. We live in places we don't like, we drive cars when we'd rather walk, we choose the salad when we want the steak.
Screw it, folks. Chase your happy. After all, we're only here for a few short moments... why not maximize delight while we're around?

Rule #2: The best way out is through.
Thanks to Robert Frost for this one. When we do not chase our happy, or otherwise find ourselves in crapola situations (sometimes we make them ourselves and sometimes crapola is just hoisted on us), the best way out is to bear down and live through it. There often aren't any shortcuts to enlightenment or growth. But living it is always worth it. You come out on the other side polished by the fire, a little stronger, a little more honest with yourself, and perhaps just a little more tempered for it.

Rule #3: The only person respsonible for your life is you.
We spend so much of life trying to attach responsibility for situations to others...

My boss doesn't like me
My landlord is out to get me
My ex is a jerk
My parents really screwed up

Blah blah blah. Ultimately, Scooter: you are an adult and you make your own choices. That includes the choice to be either delighted or repulsed about life. You can either grumble about the state of your life or you can unceremoniously just do something to change it. I have found that once I took responsibility for my own life -- took matters into my own hands and just owned my personal responsibility for things -- life looked immediately brighter. I also had to lean a lot more heavily on Rule #2, but at least I was in charge. That allowed me to employ Rule #1 a lot more often. Which ends up being wicked sweet.

Rule #4: Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.
I owe this one to a quote, as well. I can't remember who said it, but I'm doing my best here to avoid plagarism. Anyway, this rule is about honesty. Always being candid (though respectful) with and to others... and also candid and respectfully honest with yourself. Even (and perhaps especially) when it is difficult. The feedback you get in a shaking voice might just be the feedback you most need to attend... even if it is your own.

Rule #5: When you can't change it, learn to laugh with it.
Here's my modern, non-AA take on the serenity prayer. The Cliff Notes version: Change what you can. Don't bother trying to change the things you cannot. Instead, find the humor - the lesson - the whatever, in those things you cannot control. And just embrace that life IS. No judgements -- not good or bad -- just IS.

Rule #6: Excuses are like a*holes.
Thanks to Dad for this one. I remember when I was in junior high and got a not-so-hot grade in typing (you'd never know this now that I type nearly 80 wpm, thank you, lifelong career writing on a PC), I started making excuses (this may correspond to rule #4 closely) for my outcomes. Dad immediately stopped me. Sarah, he said, I want to tell you something important. Excuses are like assholes. Everyone has one, and no one wants to know about yours.
Oh.
Well, he's right. That's exactly what excuses are. So I don't make them (or, I try not to. I am imperfectly human... though that's sort of an excuse in itself. Crap.)

Rule #7: Relatively deep love brings about relatively deep heartache.
Credit to Great-Grandma Alice here. While working through the why, oh why do my parents hate each other so bloody much, as a 10-year-old, I remember Grandma Alice telling me:

G: Sarah, you have to remember that relatively deep love brings about relatively deep heartache.
S: So why love at all, Grandma?
G: Because once you love deeply, you wouldn't trade that deep love for all the heartache you might experience. The deep love makes the risk worthwhile.

'Nuff said.

Rule #8: We are all inherently lazy.
That's right: humans are inherently lazy. I know this sounds negative -- but it's not; it is a simple matter of psychology. Our gray matter is hard-wired to take shortcuts, to get someone else to do it for us, to make generalizations and categorizations. I (we) should remember that, especially when we're at that "people are idiots/mean/bad/etc" place (as I often get while driving through Milwaukee). It isn't personal. We're all just lazy.

Rule #9: You never regret going above and beyond the call of duty.
Another Dad-ism. As Dad was rearing teenage Sarah, the one thing he lectured the crap out of was work ethic. Doing your best. Doing more than what is expected. Going beyond people's expectations. We were sitting outside, where the pine trees used to line the boulevard at home in Elbow Lake, and the sun was nearly setting. Dad was a bit disappointed in the less-than-acceptable job of lawn-mowing I had completed. I remember him saying:

Sarah, you must remember 4 letters when completing a job: ABCD.
Above and
Beyond the
Call of
Duty.
You'll never regret exceeding expecations.

And he's right. I never have.

Rule #10: Create something beautiful every day.
I'm going to mostly thank Paper Source for this one. Well, at least for its roots, as the Paper Source slogan is "do something creative every day". Well, yah, but for me, personally, it goes beyond that. I always feel most accomplished and fulfilled when I hit the pillow if I have made something beautiful that day... creative, sometimes... but sometimes it might be a beautiful conversation, or a nice arrangement of words on this blog or in a journal, and sometimes it's just the beauty of raising my daughter to be an intelligent, spunky, indepdenent grrl. But it is about finding and contributing to the beauty in my world, every single day. Because if not for the beautiful - the art, the music, the words, the relationships - what do we have to relish in life?

PSA: No Coast is Saturday

Be there or risk me not calling you an indie grrl.

Vote for rock; rock the vote? Whatever...

And, in a preview of the highly unanticipated and entirely biased best of 2006 list I relish subjecting my loyal readers to each and every year, my votes went for:

Art Brut | Bang Bang Rock & Roll
Johnny Cash | American V: A Hundred Highways
Cat Power | The Greatest
Cursive | Happy Hollow
The Decemberists | The Crane Wife
Drive-By Truckers | A Blessing and a Curse
Editors | The Back Room
Gnarls Barkley | St. Elsewhere
Gomez | How We Operate
The Hold Steady | Boys And Girls In America
I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness | Fear Is On Our Side
Ok Go | Oh No
Outkast | Idlewild
P.O.S. | Audition
Psalm One | The Death Of Frequent Flyer
Snow Patrol | Eyes Open
The Strokes | First Impressions of Earth
TV On The Radio | Return To Cookie Mountain
The Walkmen | A Hundred Miles Off
M. Ward | Post-War

voice your rock and/or roll opinion and vote on the current's website (follow the link in the title. Could I have made this any easier?)

The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself

Damn Mark Twain for being so right so much of the time.

There is an ongoing thread in 2006, about how Sarah gets back to the comfortable place where being Sarah is like wearing your favorite jeans and not like interviewing for a job you don't really want.
The thread goes like this:
a) Sarah says, enough of this BS. I gotta go find me if I'm ever going to be a good Sarah, good mom, good friend, good whatever.
b) Sarah taps her inner Maya Angelou to do things she never thought she'd do: drive a moving truck -- by herself, get her own place, make new friends, stake out some independence.
c) Sarah realizes that it's super-fun to hang out with her friends and go to work and play with her little girl at the neighborhood wading pool, but is eerily aware that she's not eating and only getting 4 hours of sleep a night because it's just too foriegn to be alone.
d) Sarah avoids being alone like the plague, because it's just too lonely in there when you aren't comfortable with yourself.
e) Sarah realizes she needs to get to know herself. Sarah proceeds to take self out on dates... quiet walks around Harriet, a solo trip to the record store, Dunn Brothers and the Sunday Strib on the front porch.
f) Sarah starts doing stuff she's never, ever done before... taking road trips on her own, talking to total strangers, buying a car by herself
g) Sarah continues to have awkward getting-to-know-you moments with herself.
h) Sarah realizes one day she has a pretty clear idea of who she is and drafts the uncompromisables.
i) Sarah starts wading through an upside-down world, and anticipating anxiety, instead finds strength and comfort inside herself.
j) Sarah realizes she's found comfort in herself again.
k) Sarah realizes the truth in the matter: Dad was right, life turns over at least 4 times in your 20s. This is time 4 , and Sarah couldn't be happier about the results.
l) In spite of ongoing and upcoming challenges, Sarah is hopeful, because she has the Sarah... and the Sarah is all she needs to make it work.

a(nother) regular dose of random

the short list of things I'm digging right now:

flickr
reconnecting with family
turkey leftovers (I swear on my life I'll brine my bird til the day I die)
falling asleep on the couch to Braveheart
music karma for the jerk neighbor
the roadtrippin playlist
the commission for a custom wedding dress for a dear friend
finally... being home, finding peace in myself
an upcoming facial at Aveda
the lure of a Musical Movie Night sometime in the bleak midwinter
Taking a page from the Paigemonster playbook (I can do it all by myself...)
Closure, closure, closure
35 days left in 2006 (to quote the Mountain Goats, I am going to make it through this year if it kills me)

urbanwanderlust marks toddler milestone

urbanwanderlust turns 2 today. (neato, huh?)
Does this mean the blog will start sassing me?
Have regular temper-tantrums?
Refuse to toilet-train?


Oh wait. That was the other 2 year old in my life...

heck yah

Chasing Happy

I’m amazed every day (and a little sad) that I have spent so much time unhappy when there’s so much happy to be found out here in the world. All I had to do was take my scared, put it away, and go chase my happy.

Ready or not, here I come.